


Lilith

by SoriSeeraKyra



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Animagus, Anti-Muggle Content, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Murder, Other, Power Dynamics, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoriSeeraKyra/pseuds/SoriSeeraKyra
Summary: Red is the color of whores and the devil and many who saw her thought she was both. Credence remembers Mary Lou telling him that if he wasn't careful, the devil would come and steal him away. He feels guilty for thinking he might let her.





	1. 1

He would avert his eyes quickly whenever he realized he was starring too long, that he was going to give himself a way. He had hoped, that she would come over, so he could see more of her, but she didn’t. He holds the flyers put rather limply, simultaneously hoping that the anonymous faces of the masses around him would simply take them without him having to say a word. That usually didn’t happen however, and he usually ended up having to dole out a weak, “Second Salem meeting” or a “Come to our meeting.” He doubted that anyone could actually hear what he said when he said it, but the mumbling alone tended to at least make them glance his way when he needed them to.

                         

A flyer is taken rather hurriedly in passing, by a portly man he’d seen attend some of the meetings before, the man however, did not speak to him.

 

When the flyer is taken from his hand he flashes his dark shy gaze across the street again, and his cheeks flush when he realizes that she is still there, staring at him. He gives a little shake and concentrates on the crowd in front of him.

 

A woman takes his next flyer, though she is a little startled. He almost forced the paper in her hand. She takes and her wide scared eyes look up at him wanting to offer a courtesy smile but whisper a polite “no thank you,” but he had already shuffled away from her.

 

Two, four, six more leaflets he hands out and then he dares to shoot his dark eyes back over across the street.

 

She’s not there anymore, the corners of his lips pull down into a frown. He guessed she was gone for the day. It was sad. The thrill of being able to see her, even if it was only from a distance, made the long hours he was out here pass by quicker. As if there was something to look forward too, like he was being rewarded for his “hard” work.

 

He turns his attention back to the people in front of him only to bump into a rather tall form. His flyers flutter around him and he stumbles back from the impact. Panic floods through his system. He knows what will happen if he can’t collect the papers before they go flying away, and if Chasity tells mother that she found his flies piled up as if he’d just thrown them away.

 

He scrambles to the floor and begins scrounging up the papers around him hurriedly. People seem to make a large circle around him, they usually do when things like this happens. It’s rare that someone stops to help him pick up his papers and when they do they take one look at the content and usually throw them back down on the ground and continue walking.

 

He’s gotten efficient at things like this though, he can move fast enough to pick the papers before they’ve been shuffled off by the wind or too many footsteps have left their imprints in them.

 

The last paper is farther away from him and he crawls, rather pathetically, toward it. Before he can grab the paper however, long slender red-gloved fingers slide over the ends and lifts it into the air. From his position, he’s forced to look up at the figure through slightly squinted eyes as the sun seems to flow around them in an almost halo. Aside from the sun however, the figure seems to be using the flyer to block their face. The only thing he can see is long curled black hair resting over a shoulder.

 

He knows it’s her and he can’t move. He’s frozen. His tongue feels numb and his palms are sweating. This is too much too fast. How had she come over and gotten so close without him noticing?

 

He wants to ask her for the flyer that. She shouldn’t see that, she won’t want to watch him anymore.

 

However, as she finishes reading the flyer she simply lets out a chuckle and before he can ask for it back

 

“Credence?!”

 

His spine seems to bunch up and his head hangs low in slight apprehension. He doesn’t have to turn his head to know his mother is calling him. He presses his lips into a flat line.

 

“What are you doing on the ground?” She whispers harshly as she comes upon him.

 

He looks back at her eyes stern with what she would call, “righteous fury.”

 

“Fell.”

 

She lets out a frustrated sigh through her nose and her lips press down into a frown. He imagines that she had been a less restrained woman if she would have rolled her eyes in irritation.

 

“Get up,” she hisses rather forcefully.

 

He scrambles to his feet to his feet, the rest of his fliers gripped in his hand as carefully in his hand as possible.  He doesn’t need to be told twice, he already knows what’s going to happen now that she’s seen him make the mistake.

 

The sweat on his palms that is present now is different from the wetness that was there earlier. He can feel the familiar ache in his palms already begin to appear.

 

***

It’s raining and he wished he could stand underneath one of the awnings

 

She’s not wet though, he can tell that much from here, and just like they were yesterday, the people around her seemed to walk through her. His mother is talking, screaming really, but he’s taken the opportunity to ignore her. It was easy today, she was there watching.

 

When they had first arrived, he’d seen her walking up to the gathering. Instead of what she usually did, watching across the street, she instead moved to the back of the crowd.

 She didn’t look at him, in fact every time he would work up the courage to lift his eyes to look at the woman she, seemingly almost intentionally, was looking away from him.

 

It hurt slightly, considering all of the times that he had actually seen her, he had assumed that she was looking at him, but maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was actually interested in New Salem.

 

She didn’t seem the type though, didn’t look it anyway.  While her dark her was curled almost lovingly over her shoulder, she seemed more eccentric than the others who usually were attracted by his mother’s presence. Her dark high-necked pea coat had long flared arms that opened to show her elbow length blood red gloves. Her coat ran to her ankles, so it was hard to tell how what type of shoes she was wearing. A gold necklace sat in the center of her chest, the shape of a snake. From what he could tell, it looked like the snake had a green jewel sitting in the middle of its forehead.

 

Most of the people that came, seemed almost averse to color, and his mother often mentions that red is the color that only sinful women wore.

 

He averts his eyes a way for a moment to pretend he’s paying attention to his mother. It’s the same words that he’s heard over and over again. What confuses him is why people continue to listen. Most of the people that came to their meetings were not new people, despite the fact that she tended to have the meetings in various parts of the city. Usually the new people were those that just happened to overhear what she was saying, He’d watch at least ten people at every meeting walk up to the large group run their eyes over his family, catch what his mother was saying and then walking away. However, he supposed because the crowd was growing a little more each time that in some way her message was working.

 

He flashes his eyes over to where the woman was and an invisible frown pulls at the corner of his lips. She was gone. She usually stayed until they were finished, maybe she had something to do today?

 

He lets out a quiet puff of air through his nose in disappointment.

 

The rest of the meeting goes off without problem. No police come to break up their meeting, no one threw eggs or rocks at them, no one even called them freaks. He hopes that this fact will put his mother in a better mood than she had been, recently.

 

“Credence,” His ma, Mary Lou, snaps getting his attention.

He shuffles his way over to her, eyes not meeting her cold domineering blue one’s.

 

“Ma?”

 

“Here.” She shoves a stack of papers at his chest rather harshly causing him to step back in surprise at the amount of force.

 

His brown eyes meet hers in confusion.

 

“Since you didn’t finish your burden of the work the other day you need to pass these out today.”

 

He wants to cry.

 

The wounds on his back had barley healed from when she’d punished him. He could feel the heavy drops of rain spill through his shirt, stinging some of the still open welts. He had believed that he had already paid his price, why was he being made to pay more.

 

His eyes flash over to his sisters.  Chasity’s blue eyes flash away from him, there would be no sympathy to gain from her, and Modesty couldn’t do anything to help him even if she wanted to.

 

“Okay, Ma.”

 

She lets out a snort through her nose, followed by a roll of her eyes. With a flick of her wrist she waves him and he complies without a word, working his way back to the awning where he had been standing during the meeting.

 

Credence is unsure of what to do. The rain will make not only the ink of the flyers run, but melt the paper as well but if he stays under the awning he knows that he never will be able to get rid of the amount of papers he would need to get back home.

 

Rather aggressively he shoves his arm out at the next person to pass by. The arm accidently hits a woman who lets out a rather mortified screech causing him to snap scared brown eyes at her.

 

He meets her gaze and he begins to let out a stuttering “I-I-I’m sorry.”

 

However, the words seem to fall on deaf ears because before he knows what’s happening the fabric around his neck is being pulled up and tightened.

 

A larger man, presumably the woman’s companion, has his fingers buried in the folds of Credence’s shirt and sweater.

 

“What’s the big idea, punk?!” The man screech spit slipping from in between his angry thin lips. He’s shaking Credence slightly causing a whimper to crawl from the boy’s throat and a few tears to slip down the sides of his face.

 

“You cryin’, freak?”

 

He can’t respond, he knows that if he opens his mouth nothing that he says will be pleasing to the man, even if he tries to explain that it is an accident. Besides, he’s not sure that he would be able to form sentences at the moment anyway, he’s too scared to put up any defense.

 

“Now now, my dear, I was watching from the window and the boy didn’t do it on purpose.”

 

Both he and the man seem to freeze at the soothing tone of the new voice. The man turns to face the direction where the voice seemed to be coming from and so Credence was able to get a look at who intervened as well.

 

It was strange to feel such relief that someone who was a stranger would come and rescue him, but that is what happened when he saw the woman who watches.

 

The man sputters for a few moments, seemingly taken aback by her beauty the same way that Credence felt every time he looked at her, even if it was far away. However, he finally managed to get the words out.

 

“Listen broad, this is between me and the kid. What is someone like you even doing in this part of town?”

 

Credence shifts his gaze over to the woman who simply let’s a small smile pull over her full lips, and gives a cock of her head.

 

She moves closer to the pair of them and gloved hand rests on the man shoulder, “I said the boy didn’t mean it, why don’t you take your wife out to eat and by her a new dress.”

 

The man is still, not just stunned by her audacity, but seemingly unable to move, and then he seemingly regains his senses. To Credence’s surprise he gives the woman a nod. He lets the boy’s shirt go and gives him a nod.

 

The woman, his wife who up to this point had been quietly watching the scene play out, is surprised when her husband grabs her hand and pulls her muttering a “C’mon Meredith.” Meredith glances between the pair before nodding and going quietly.

 

It’s silent for a moment as Credence bends down to pick up a few fallen flyers. He stands back up with every intention to thank her but when he lays eyes on her face he realizes that he has a hard time looking at her, the same way he couldn’t look at his mother, but for a different reason.

Her wide unnatural Granny-Smith-green eyes contrasted beautifully against her sienna skin. Her smile curled lips where painted a red matching the gloves she wore, a smile that seemed to only get wider when she realized that he couldn’t hold her gaze.

 

“T-thank you,” it’s quiet, almost too quiet, had he not said it he’s sure that he wouldn’t have even heard the words.

 

She seems to though, even if she only responds with a nod of her head.

 

“I took my eyes off of you for a moment and you got in trouble,” she comments with a shake of her head.

 

His heart thuds in his chest at the confirmation that she had been watching.

 

He, however, doesn’t get to think more on her words. Like the way his mother shoved the stack of papers at his chest, shoves something at his. Limply, a small circular object falls to the stack papers and rests there.

 

He looks up at her in confusion, wondering why she would place the small object there.

 

“You like sugar cookies, don’t you?” She asks with an arched eyebrow. “I figure that this would help make up for the fact that I caused you to drop you _little_ papers the other day.”

 

There is a combination of amusement and disgust that fills her tone when she says little, like she is belittling them. He doesn’t blame her though, there is something disgusting about his mother’s work, especially when there were so many human monsters in this world.

 

He stares at the confection for a moment before tentatively picking it put and placing some in his mouth. The sweetness blooms on his tongue the minute that it touches his taste buds, and he almost lets the ends of his lips turn up. It’s delicious.

 

An elegant hand reaches out to the stack of papers that he’s holding and carefully slips the paper from him. Her large eyes taken the flyer and with a smirk and a snort she shakes her head.

 

“You don’t believe these things, do you?” She questions, sharply cutting her eyes up at him.

 

As another helping of the cookie is in his mouth can’t speak, not that he would have anyway, so he shakes his head.

 

“Good.”

 

Her hands reach out forcefully this time and takes three quarters of the stack of his papers, making him look up at her with slightly panicked eyes. However, she doesn’t let him say anything and lets a long glove covered finger rest in the middle of her lips, urging him not complain.

 

“It’s a funny little thing this flyer of yours. Meant to inspire fear I suppose, but I can’t but wonder what your people would do if they encountered a real witch.”

 

The words are smooth and said with rather smirking tone, that makes him twist inside. Honey? Yes, that is what her voice was like. It was sweet, but so thick and smooth that, it was different from the type of sweetness like candy.

 

She looks like a child holding a secret that she can’t wait to tell, teasing and at the same time hopeful that someone may ask what she’s hiding.

 

Credence doesn’t say anything though, he’s not entirely sure what to say.

 

“Don’t worry about these, Credence,” She says suddenly shaking the stack. “I’ll take care of these.”

 

A shiver rolls down his spine, how did she know his name?

 

She turns away, “Enjoy your cookies, I’ll see you soon.”

 

If he was going to protest her departure, he imagined she would have been out of earshot before he even got the chance to. Her long legs pushing her back up the street and away from him.

 

See him soon? Does that mean she’ll be coming back to watch him more? He’d like that.

 

He shoves the rest of the cookie in his mouth and looks down at the few papers he had left to pass out and dares to let a smile cross his face. When he does, small crumbs from his lips fall on to the paper. He lifts his hand to wipe his face, but he has to stop. There is an extra weight in his sweater pocket that wasn’t there before.

 

He slips a pale hand into his pocket and his eyes go wide when he feels that familiar doughy texture. Four large circles sit in his pocket, all similar in size to the one he just ate.

 

His eyes cut up the street, in the direction she just left.

 

_‘I didn’t ask her name.’_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really need to do something about those eyes...

Seraphina Picquery hesitated before she opened the door to her office. She could hear a familiar light chuckle. What was she doing here? When did she comeback to America? And why hadn’t she told anyone that she was coming? 

“Come, come Sera I know you’re out there,” The sing-song tone of her cousin’s voice causes her to roll her eyes in irritation. She takes a deep breath and then exhales before pressing open the door. 

 

“What the hell is wrong with your eyes?” Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say in greeting but she could see them pop out of the younger girl’s from across the room. 

Amélie Lilian DeVille looks at her cousin with a pout, “That’s one way to great your cousin.” 

Seraphina rolls her eyes as the younger woman saunters into her office, “I’m just wondering if you know what you look like.” 

 

“If you must know, it’s a new trait, that I have acquired.” 

 

Seraphina rolls her eyes at the woman and as she approaches her. She waves her hand at Amélie, motioning for her to remove herself from her chair. 

The young woman rolls her unnatural green eyes and pushes herself back from the desk only to sit on the edge. 

Seraphina flops down rather inelegantly down in the large chair. 

“So, what’s with the face?” 

 

Amélie casts an uncharacteristically shy gaze at her older cousin, “I tried to change it.” 

 

“Change what?” 

 

“You know I’m not a fan of snakes, and so it just seems unfair that I turn into one.” 

 

Sera looks at the girl incredulously, “What?” 

 

With a more declarative tone, Amélie clarifies, “My Animagus state, I tried to change it into a cat and instead of snake.” 

 

“You know you can’t do that,” Seraphina says exasperated. 

“I know that,” she says with crossed arms and a bit of a pout. “I thought a cat would have worked out well. Cunning, intelligent, beautiful.” 

“Not to mention conniving and predatory.” 

“All traits, that cats possess as well.” 

“I think that the snake is a result to your more,” Seraphina takes a pause and flicks her eyes up and down her cousin’s form, “general lack of sincere emotional attachment" 

Amélie furrows her eyebrows and looks at the older woman with pursed lips, "I'm not sure I know what you’re trying to say." 

“You see something you like and you-,” Sera says eyes cutting away from her cousin as a paper rat crawls onto herself and unfurls itself. “What do you think I mean?” 

"I think you and the rest of this puritanical society think that a woman having fun, is evil." 

"No one is saying that," Sera says as she eyes the memo. "It's just that, how do I even say this, you don't even truly love me, cousin." 

Amélie stiffens but she doesn't react in any other visible way. Instead she takes the opportunity to watch her cousin, who's gaze hasn't moved from what ever notice was placed on her desk. "I came to see you." 

Brown eyes flick up to meet green, “Out of obligation. And you knew I would find out that you were eventually.” 

"Perhaps," The green eyed woman states, in a much cooler tone than she had originally addressed the blonde woman with. "At least mother will be happy to know I've seen you." 

 

“She knows you're here?" Seraphina says in a slightly surprised tone. "I didn't think she'd let you come here." 

 

Amélie quirks a black brow, “You should know better, she doesn't even know I'm in the country. You're going to tell her." 

 

“I don’t have time to take out an hour of my day simply to do your errands, Amélie.” 

“You were going to tell her I came to see you anyway; the only difference is now you know I want you to."   
Seraphina simply lets out a sigh of frustration. 

"That's not the only thing I wanted to ask of you either." 

"What else can I do to please you, dear cousin?" The woman sits straight at her desk, beginning to get frustrated with the young woman who was now running her hands over various objects around her objects. 

"There is a boy, a muggle or a squib, I can't tell yet. I want him, and I'm going to take him." 

“A Muggle?” Seraphina questions with raised eyebrow walking over to her cousin and pushing her legs off of her desk as she grabs a note that just ran to her desk. “Your time abroad is showing.” 

 

“It’s cuter than no-maj.” 

 

The blonde woman tosses an irritated eye at her cousin and lets out a snort through her nose, “Tease all you like, it doesn’t matter what their called, you can't just kidnap someone. That's a crime in our world and theirs." 

"He'll be plenty willing and besides," the younger woman pulls a flyer from the sleeve of her long coat and shoves it in the blonde's face. "He'll be happier with me than he would these lunatics. Come to think of it shouldn't you be worried about this? Isn't you're whole thing, not to be exposed?" 

 

Seraphina’s eyes flicker over the piece of paper for only a mere second, she only has to see the colors before she waves it off. “Most of the people think the woman is crazy, we had someone monitoring the case for a little while nothing big came of it. And just because she's crazy, it doesn't give you the right to steal someone from her family.” 

 

“Well she’s not exactly crazy, is she?” The paper catches fire in Amélie’s hand, ashes falling quietly to the ground, “There are ‘witches among us’ after all." 

"And if you take whomever it is you've set your gaze on, she goes from raving lunatic to someone with an actual grievance to take up with the no-maj police. Don't you ever think before you act?" 

Another exhausted sigh forces itself through Seraphina’s nostrils, “What were you doing in that part of town anyway? You’d stick out like a sore thumb.” 

 

Amélie pauses and her head cocks slightly as a smirk pulls at her lips, “People watching.” 

 

Seraphina pauses, looking at the girl, “There’s that snake.” 

 

The young woman’s eyes roll in annoyance, “I was just exploring a curiosity, cat-like.” 

 

“Yeah, well that ‘curiosity,’ as you call it usually leads to you getting into some type of trouble that I have to fix. Try not to this time please. And promise you'll leave them alone. Find a nice magical person to have your fun with.” 

 

“Oh see, I can’t really make the promise.” 

“Amélie!” 

“At least I’m being honest.” 

 

“If that makes you feel better.” Seraphina’s eyes glance up at the back wall of her office to where a small clock was hanging “You’ll need to leave. I have a meeting coming in ten minutes.” 

“Fine, with me cousin,” Amélie says with a shrug, “I can start my people watching earlier today.”   
Amélie struts to the door, the heels of her boots clacking as she walked. 

“One thing,” Sera says not looking up from the new paper that crawled on her desk. 

Amélie’s long fingers are resting gently on the door knob, “Yes?” 

“Who did you charm to let you in here?” 

A chuckle rolls from the red-gloved woman’s lips, “A darling boy, a Mr. Abernathy.” 

“Don’t make a habit of charming my employees.” 

“Fine,” she says walking out of the room, “Next time I’ll just show up as you.” 

*** 

“Are you busy?” 

The voice causes him to jump and almost drop his flyers. Quickly he turns to see the green-eyed woman looking at him questioningly. His dark eyes glance around them rather shyly, a part of him always assuming that she wasn’t talking to him. 

 

He knows she’s talking to him however, but instead of verbally responding he merely raises the stack of his papers, indicating his duties. 

A smile stretches across her painted red lips, “You’re free then? Wonderful.” 

Forcefully she snatches the stack from his hands. Quickly she turns away from him, her eyes seem to spot watch she’s looking for and with a click of her heels she’s off, Credence following closely behind her. 

“I-I can’t be gone for too long, they’ll know,” He protests rather pathetically. 

“Just tell them you were purifying the wicked soul of a wanton woman,” she says with a chuckle as she shoves the flyers in a trashcan. 

Credence gasps, and with speed she’d never seen him use before, he hustles over to her and the garbage, nearly pushing her out of the way. Desperately, he reaches a gangly arm into the waste in, but they are out of his reach. 

He looks back at the woman with wide teary eyes, “W-why would you do that.” 

She doesn’t look guilty or in any way apologetic for what she’s done, in fact he’d say there was a rather blank look on her face. Her eyes seemed to be looking through him as she observed him, as if she is documenting the behavior of an animal. Finally, she seems to snap out of whatever trance it is that she is in as she lets a rather condescending smile cross her painted lips. 

“Don’t worry, it will be fine.” 

“You don’t understand,” he tries to reason with her. “They check, she knows if we haven’t handed them all out.” 

In a shushing manner, her hand comes to his face, a covered thumb rubbing over his cheekbone. He quiets instantly, leaning into the touch. It was familiar, he realized, similar to the way that he touched him. 

“All this time watching you, do you think I’d purposefully cause you harm?” She questions with a slight pout. 

He wants to tell her the truth, that he doesn’t know her or what she wants from him, but when he looks into her eyes the words die on his lips and the thought to pull away from her sputters from his mind. 

He shakes his head. 

 

“Excellent,” she says quickly slipping her hand from his cheek down to his wrist, tightly grabbing the appendage as if to make sure he doesn’t wonder off, similar to the way that mother would grab a child. “Let’s have some coffee then.” 

*** 

“Is the smell bothering you?” She questions with a slight pout as she stirs the tea in her cup. 

His eyes stare at the dark liquid in the mug in front of him, his thumbs rubbing timidly over the sides of the ceramic, he’s so entranced that he barley hears his question. His dark eyes flash to meet her green ones and he quickly averts them back down into the dark drink in front of him. 

“I’ve never been in here before,” she starts seeing that he won’t be responding. “Quaint, little place isn’t?” 

“I suppose,” He responds, although he’s unsure what she means by quaint. 

She looks at him like she’s deciding something, "What do you like to do for fun, Credence?" 

A shiver rolls down his spine at the way her tongue rolled over his name, it almost sounded foreign. 

But her question, what is the answer to her question? What did he like to do for fun? What did he even like? As much as he hated standing on some assigned corner and being pushed and prodded by the New York City crowd, it did give him time to himself. 

He liked when his Ma handed it out food to the other little boys and girls who had even less than what he had, but it always made him sad that they had to do what he did in order to get the food. How many of them could even read what was on the flyer? He barely could and he was older than all of them. 

He liked on Sunday's when the Chapel opened for regular church services and everyone began singing, but the was usually followed by fiery sermons that made him feel less good about even being in the chapel. 

"I don't know," He said finally deciding that he truthfully couldn't remember the last time he did something that he enjoyed that didn't have a but at the end. 

"Is this fun for you?" She asks with a tilt of her head thick dark hair falling to one of her shoulders. He meets her gaze for a second, and he quickly flashes his dark gaze down from her unearthly green eyes.   
Was this fun? He didn’t know. He liked that she was paying attention to him, but to be here in front of so many people and to know that this feeling could be taken away at any moment. It didn’t feel like fun, it was suffocating.

He didn’t want her to know that though. What if he said something she didn’t like, and she didn’t come around anymore?

“I don’t know.” 

“I see,” she says putting her cup or tea down. “Is there something you want to know about me?” 

“Y-you never told me you name.” 

“Oh,” she says with a surprised look on her face. “Forgive me, my name is Amélie.” 

“I don’t think I can say it the way you did.” 

“It’s fine, say it the way that you can.” Her unusual eyes seemed warm and it made him feel the same inside. 

“Your eyes?” He questions timidly, almost afraid to come off rude.

“Do the scare you?” She asks with a sly smile.

“No not really,” He says after a moment of taking in the balance of her face. “They fit you.”

“Hmm,” She seems to almost purr in delight at the compliment, as a pleased but slightly surprised glint comes over her eyes. “And if I told you they were only temporary?”

“I-I’m sure you’d look nice with any colored eyes,” He answers truthfully a warm blush covering his cheeks. 

There is a feeling of embarrassment building up in his chest. Had she done this on purpose? Or was this something that conjured up in his mind? Maybe both.

“But eyes just can’t change color like that, can they?” He asks suddenly realize what she’s implying.

One of her long fingers strokes the side of tea cup as her mind clearly goes over what words to say next.

“With the right experiment anything can be changed.”

“Experiment?” He questions eyes widening slightly. “You mean like one of those mad doctors?”

“Mad doctors?” She questions, before a smile of understanding comes over her face. “You mean mad scientist? No, I’m not mad. But calling me a scientist isn’t completely wrong, if it helps you understand better.”

“Understand?” He questions.

Her eyes seem to smile at his question but as she opens her lips to answer his question, a deep chiming sounds in the coffee shop. Her eyes look over his head to a clock the hangs not too far behind him.

“You should probably head on home; I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

As the sentence leaves her lips, the reality of what his little side adventure meant hits him hard. He’d shirked off his duties, and he was sure that somehow, his mother would know that his flyers had simply been thrown in the trash. She always seemed to know when he messed up.

Absently, his fingers begin to scratch at the sides of his cup. His dull nails causing an unpleasant sound to ring both in his and Amélie’s ears.

He didn’t want to be in pain, but he had to pay for his free time someway right

“Credence,” She says somewhat sternly, pulling his attention away from his thoughts. And as stern as her voice had been, it was just as soft the next second she spoke, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

Would he?

“After all,” she says with a pout, “It’s not like you’ve actually gone anywhere.”

“What?”

She simply gives him a wink.

He blinks confusedly, but when his eyes open, he’s back on the street corner where she found him. Startled by the sudden rapid change in scenery, he stumbles back into a body.

“Hey, back off pal!”

He’s pushed forward harshly and nearly trips over his own feet trying to steady himself. It’s then he feels a cut on the inside of his palm, and he finally registers the feeling of a stack a paper in his hand registers. He looks down and sees the flyers in his hand.

The sky was just as gray and dull as he remembered.

An elaborate day dream? Is that what that what that meeting had been? It must have been. But he felt her hand on his, he was sure of that. He remembered the smell of the coffee shop, and the taste of the chocolate. Even the dread he felt when he realized that he hadn’t done his jobs.

“Credence?” A voice questions, and shivers run down his spine.

His dark gaze turns to find a familiar older face.

“M-mr. Graves?”

“What’s wrong?” The older man questions raising a thick lack brow. “You look sick.”

Credence swallows thickly, and for a moment he wonders if he should tell him what’s happened. He decides against it. If it was only a dream, there was no reason for him to say anything, was there?

“Nothing.”

“Good,” the man says slightly suspicious, dark eyes scanning the younger boy’s form. “We need to talk.”


End file.
